


Untitled

by basedfran



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: But only 2, Out of Character, because baby fran hasn't mastered his poker face yet and still has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basedfran/pseuds/basedfran
Summary: a fic request for my blog that got too long because i'm a big stupid moron that doesn't have self control
Relationships: Flan | Fran & Fuuta de la Stella
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Untitled

Fran is nodding off in class again when something small and a little pointy hits his right eyebrow, falling down into his textbook.

He blinks himself awake, halos of color bursting before his eyes as he adjusts to the afternoon sunlight streaming in from the window to his left, and glances down. A little blue scrap of paper folded into a tight triangle sits in the gutter of his literature textbook.

He takes it in his hands, struggling to unfold it as he scans the classroom to see who sent it. Given the direction it came from (and the fact that he isn’t too popular with anyone else in the class), he deduces pretty easily that it must’ve come from Fuuta, who’s making a great effort to train their eyes forward and pretend like they’re paying attention to Miyamoto-sensei’s lecture.

‘ _ Weird. _ ’ Fran thinks, finally prying the little note open, ripping the paper a bit in his efforts. ‘ _ You were quiet the whole walk here and now you suddenly want to pass notes in class? _ ’

Written on the note in Fuuta’s small, neat scrawl are the words:  _ Why didn’t you come to my house the other day? We had plans; you promised you’d come over. _

‘ _ Oh. _ ’ Fran stares up at Fuuta’s back as he scribbles down his response. They notice, somehow, that he’s staring (Maybe through the mirror in their pencil case?) and their ears start to burn. ‘ _ He must’ve really wanted to get that project done. _ ’

_ miyamoto made me write that apology letter five times, and then she picked a fight with me... after detention was over i just wanted to take a nap so i went home. we still have time to finish our science project, so stop being mad :P _

He refolds the paper (his triangle nowhere near as perfect as Fuuta’s was) and sends it off in their direction, the note nicking their earlobe as it soars past their head and into their pencil case. They snatch it up as soon as it lands.

The aura surrounding Fuuta is off, not by a lot but enough to make even Fran’s lips purse. They fold up the note and tuck it in their pencil box, shutting it with a tight click.

Fran lowers his head and stands his textbook up, hoping to shield himself from Fuuta’s negative vibes. ‘ _ Oops. _ ’ he thinks, shrinking down into his seat. ‘ _ Guess I’m in trouble. _ ’

* * *

As soon as the bell rings and Miyamoto releases them for lunch, Fuuta turns their desk around and connects it with Fran’s as they always do, but their sluggish movements make it obvious how listless they are. A little sigh escapes their lips as they place their bento atop the desk, fumbling a bit with the soft pink furoshiki wrapping it.

Fran reaches down and grabs his own bento from his bag, his gaze still trained on his friend. “So...” he begins, setting his bento down, gaze dropping down to his Kamen Rider furoshiki. Though his face doesn’t convey it, he feels a little awkward, knowing full well he’s ill equipped to handle comforting anyone.

“Where were you yesterday?” Fuuta cuts in, glancing up at him, picking at their lunch. Their lip is wobbling just the slightest bit, like they’re trying hard to hold back a pout.

“I told you, I went home.” Fran answers, undoing the furoshiki and laying out all three compartments of his bento on the desk. He scans his lunch, trying to remember if he’s packed something he can bribe them with in place of actual comfort. Maybe the konnyaku? They seemed to like it the last time they went on a picnic.

“No, I mean during lunch.” Fuuta’s voice is a little raspy, Fran barely able to pick it up over the chattering of their classmates. They nibble on a bit of rice but seem even less inclined than usual to actually eat.

“Oh. I woke up late and couldn’t pack a lunch, so I went and took a nap in the garden instead.”

Fuuta clicks their tongue. “You should’ve just taken half of mine.”

“I don’t think either of us would’ve been satisfied with just half of your tiny lunch.” Fran settles on giving them both his konnyaku and his potato salad, quickly moving both divider trays out of his own lunchbox and gently laying them down in Fuuta’s rice. “Here, eat this and stop being grumpy.”

“I am  _ not _ grumpy.” Fuuta mutters, lashes fluttering at Fran a bit irritably before they grab one of the meatballs Nana packed them with their chopsticks. “...Let’s trade, then. You like meatballs, right?”

He opens his mouth in place of answering, a soft, monotonous  _ Ahhhh. _ rolling out from the back of his throat.

Fuuta’s nose wrinkles, their ears and cheeks starting to flush red, but they quickly shove the first meatball into his waiting mouth before dropping a couple more in Fran’s lunchbox with his bell peppers and karaage. Fran perches his head in his palms, cupping his own face as he watches them rearrange his lunch. “Does this mean you’re not mad anymore?” he asks after swallowing his food.

Fuuta looks at him, brows furrowed but no obvious displays of ire in their expression. “I was never  _ mad _ ...” Fuuta bites their bottom lip, giving their friend a lookover. “Fran... Do you even remember what yesterday was?”

“Uh, the day we were supposed to go to your house and start our science project?” Was there something else that he was missing? Fran doesn’t remember making any other kind of plans that day.

Fuuta looks at him like he’s just said he thinks the dinosaurs were a hoax, bewildered and a bit exasperated. “Well, yeah, but that’s not the only thing that was happening yesterday...”

“What else was going on?” Fran finally asks, knowing by now that he’ll probably never be able to guess what’s going on. Though he’s gotten pretty good at this illusionist-esper thing in the past year, he’s yet to develop telepathy.

Their mouth opens, but Fuuta can’t seem to spit out what they want to say. “...Just hurry and eat your lunch.” they say after an unnaturally long pause, placing one of their peeled mandarin oranges in Fran’s lunch box. “I can’t believe you just didn’t eat yesterday, you’re too tiny to skip meals.”

“Okay, mom, calm down. You know I eat more than this whole class combined on a regular day, a couple skipped meals won’t kill me.” He grabs one of his katsu sandwiches and lays it down on their rice as a final offering. “Do you want me to come over and do the project today instead? Chrome told me to be sure to go home right after school for something, but I can probably come by right after that.”

“Are you going to actually keep your word and come this time?” Fuuta asks, picking up the sandwich and smearing some potato salad inside it before beginning to take tiny bites out of it.

It’s Fran’s turn to click his tongue and wrinkle his nose. “You really know how to hold a grudge...” he mutters. He wipes some crumbs off his hand onto his shorts before offering his pinky to them.

They hook his finger with their own after a moment, their hands rocking back and forth ‘locking in’ the promise. “If you’re lying I’ll really take this.” Fuuta says, squeezing Fran’s pinky with their own.

Fran squeezes back, just so he doesn’t lose to them. “Kinda tempted to let you try.”

* * *

The afternoon classes are a bit of a blur, especially since Fran isn’t paying any of the instructors even a bit of attention. He’s already memorized the textbooks they’re reading from, and he isn’t a fan of the way they regurgitate the text. He’s dozing off again, head lolling over the back of his chair, when the final bell rings.

The math teacher, Shinoda-sensei, tries to relay directions for the homework but half the class runs off before she gets the chance and she gives up. Fran and Fuuta still hurry out the door before she can change her mind.

The sun, still as gentle as spring guarantees, bathes them in its warmth as they make their way out the school building and down the hill towards the intersection where the road to the Sawada house and the road to Fran and Chrome’s apartment meet.

The chirps of the year’s first cicadas fill the air, drowning out the sound of Fran’s boots as he clops down the street, looking one good gust of wind away from rolling down the hill. Fuuta grabs onto the back of his jacket, trying to make sure he stays upright. Though Fran isn’t clumsy (especially when compared to Tsuna or Dino), his luck is bad enough to make them worry he’ll trip and tumble into oncoming traffic.

“Slow down a little.” Fuuta says around the third time Fran trips, his shoelaces having randomly come undone despite being triple knotted.

“I have to hurry to the corner store before that grandpa who runs it is gone. He promised to give me three free tries at the gachapon machine before he goes to his pool league.”

Fuuta’s eye twitches slightly at the word ‘gachapon’. “Why would he do that? Isn’t he usually happy to watch you waste your wallet on it? I’m pretty sure you funded the new purse his wife is walking around with.”

“I got an empty capsule yesterday, but they were closing when I complained so he told me I could try again a couple of times if I came today. Said he doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s running a scam.” His face is as blank as usual, but there’s a bit of fire in his eyes. “I have a feeling I’m going to get that last  _ Den-O _ figure today. My brain’s all tingly.”

“You said that the last time we were here...” Fuuta mutters as they stop in front of the corner store, Fran waving in the window to catch the shopkeeper’s attention. They stoop down to quickly re-tie Fran’s shoe for him before standing and crossing their arms, turning their gaze towards the street as the shopkeeper gets up from the counter with the three promised coins in hand.

“I’ll admit, that time it was just a headache because Lambo was being annoying.” Fran says, taking the coins from the shopkeeper before hurrying over to put one in the slot, twisting the crank and watching the first capsule roll down into the prize slot. “ _ This _ time, it’s my illusionist’s intuition.”

He reaches in and grabs the capsule, popping it open. A little figurine of a cross between a red oni and a sentai character sat inside. A painfully familiar trinket for both of them, as Fran has gotten this particular prize fifteen times in his quest to get all six  _ Kamen Rider Den-O _ figurines that are available. “Geh... Another Momotaros.”

“Some intuition.” Fuuta says when they spot it, snorting a bit. Fran sticks his tongue out at them. They make a pair of scissors with their fingers, miming like they’re going to cut it out of his mouth.

“You still have two tries, kid.” the shopkeeper reminds him, apparently using Fran’s three tries to take a break from tending the store. He’s squatting down on the store’s stoop, half inside the store, holding a bottle of Asahi in a loose grip.

Fran pops the second quarter into the slot and cranks the machine once again. When he pops the capsule open another Momotaros figure greets him. His nose wrinkles. “Hey, grandpa, you sure this stupid thing isn’t filled with just Momotaros?” Fran asks, gently rapping his knuckle against the gachapon machine’s glass casing.

“I told you, the machine’s probably rigged.” Fuuta says, squatting down besides Fran, unzipping his backpack and dropping the fresh prizes inside for him so he doesn’t have to take off his bag. “You should just quit while you’re ahead. I’m sure you’re already struggling with where to put all the additional copies you ended up with trying to get this last figure, and now you’re going to bring three more duds back.”

“Oh, you cheeky brats.” the shopkeeper mutters, taking a quick sip of his drink before gearing up for a lecture, glaring back and forth between the two of them. He points to Fran. “That last figure keeps evading you because you’re unlucky, don’t start saying I’m tampering with the stock.” He points to Fuuta. “And don’t go spreading nasty rumors about my machines being rigged. You’re just upset you had to empty your piggy bank for the figure you wanted.”

“One coin a day is hardly emptying out our piggy bank, grandpa.” Fran says, dropping the last coin in the slot.

“I’m not talking about  _ you! _ ”

Fuuta’s hand juts out and cranks the machine before the two can start arguing.

“Hey, you tainted my last try.” Fran headbutts their shoulder, his bulbous apple hat almost knocking them over, but they’re somehow able to keep upright.

“Tainted? Knowing your luck, I probably saved you from getting another Momotaros.” Fuuta says, gesturing towards the prize slot. “C’mon, Chrome-san is waiting for you. Get your prize and let’s go.”

Fran wrinkles his nose again and collects the capsule. He cracks it open slowly, biting down onto his tongue in anticipation. The figure inside the capsule is ninja inspired, wearing a black outfit with a yellow mask and green chest plate as accents. He sighs, head dropping forward so his hat bangs against the machine. “Well, you’re right, it’s not another Momotaros, but it’s also not the Liner figure.” he says, handing it off to them to drop into his backpack.

“Stop moping a toy’s a toy.” the shopkeeper mutters, taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s a  _ collectible _ , not a toy. And I still don’t have the full set.” Fran rests a palm on the machine’s glass window. The amount of capsules have significantly dropped since he’s been coming here. Previously filled to the top, it now looked close to needing a refill, only a dozen or so capsules left over.

“Then keep coming by trying to get it.” the shopkeeper says dismissively. “ _ I _ may not be too happy to see you, but my wallet sure is.”

Fuuta stands in a huff, sending the shopkeeper a sharp look. “Hey! What are you saying to a little kid? Y’know, he uses part of his grocery funds for this.”

“The money’s still going to groceries. Just not his.” The shopkeeper gets up, chuckling at his own bad joke. He strolls back into the store, glancing over his shoulder at them, hand on the door. “Probably going to change the prizes in the machine soon, though. So you’d better hurry.”

He shuts the door in time with Fran knocking his head against the machine another time. ‘ _ Maybe if I hit it enough times the Liner figure will pop out. _ ’

“Don’t even think about it, Francis.” Fuuta grabs Fran’s arm and yanks him up, letting their arms linger in their locked positions as Fran continues to stare down the machine. “We’ll probably have to pay for the damages. Plus I don’t want to have to drag you to the hospital if your skull cracks open.”

“You’re always saying I have a hard head, why not test it?”

“ _ Stop. _ ” They reach up, brush his bangs away so they can make sure he isn’t injured. Their thumb runs gently against the middle of his forehead where a small patch of irritated red skin is blooming. “Oh, Francis, it’s all red now.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s still a concern.” They lead him to the end of the street, arms still linked. The lights for both the crosswalk pointing to the left towards the Sawadas’ neighborhood and pointing forward to Fran and Chrome’s apartment complex are red, allowing them a little more time to chat before they have to part ways. “Should we just go to my house and get you some ice? We can call Chrome-san when we get there.”

“Nah, I pinky swore I’d come, so I can’t skip.”

“Well...” Fuuta nibbles at their lip, glancing at the now blinking crosswalk symbol. They release Fran’s arm and run back to the convenience store. “Wait here a second!”

“Huh?” Fran looks after them before his eyes snap towards the crosswalk light, now lit up green,  _ Toryanse _ starting up over the speaker. He calls over his shoulder, “Oi, the light changed.”

“Just wait a second!” Fuuta calls back swinging into the corner store.

Fran fidgets on his feet, listening as  _ Toryanse _ plays on, the first twenty seconds of the song seemingly passing by quicker than usual. “Pretty sure it’s been more than a second.” he says, glancing back at the store.

Fuuta doesn’t reply, probably too deep inside the store to hear him. The next ten seconds of the song continue, the light then starting to flicker, signalling the light was close to changing. “Fuuta-”

“Catch!” Fuuta flies by him, tossing something in his direction as they sprint towards and across the crosswalk.

Fran catches the object without looking to see what it is and follows their lead, dashing across the street and skidding to a stop at the other side just before the song ends and the light changes back to red. Blood pumping a bit, but still not out of breath, Fran turns to look at Fuuta from across the intersection.

They wave when their gazes meet, pointing towards their forehead. “They didn’t have ice, so put that on your head!” they shout over a car sputtering past them on the street.

Fran looks down at the object in his hand, now noticing how cold it is. A GariGarikun popsicle takes up his whole palm, a bit of freezer ice still sticking to its wrapper. “I can have it?” he calls back, pretending like he hasn’t heard them well, tearing off the wrapper with one quick tug.

“ _ Hey!! _ That’s not for you to eat! Put it on your forehead!!”

“Put it in my stomach??? What else would I do with ice cream?” Fran takes a bite of the popsicle, waving goodbye to them as he starts walking off towards home.

“Oh you little- If you have a lump on your head later don’t blame me!” they shout, waving back as they start to turn. “Be safe going home, don’t get into trouble!”

Fran waves one last time, taking another bite as he turns all the way around and walks to his apartment.

* * *

Fuuta’s smiling when they open the door for Fran and Chrome a couple hours later, but it quickly slips off when they get an eyeful of Chrome.

“Chrome-san, what happened to your eyebrows?” Fuuta tears their gaze away from the perfectly smooth patch of skin where Chrome’s eyebrows once were to glare at Fran. They grab his cheek between their pointer finger and thumb, not exactly  _ pinching _ it but jiggling the little bit of fat. “Didn’t I tell you not to get in trouble?”

“Ish heur fauwt.” Fran slurs out, pointing up at a bashful Chrome.

“I, uh, may have burned down the kitchen... Again.” she mumbles shyly, taking Fran’s backpack and duffel from him, juggling it with her own bags. “But the good news is that you two get to have a sleepover while we have the repairs done. I thought this might happen, so I already cleared it with Nana-san this morning.”

Chrome starts shuffling towards the living room, Fuuta jutting out to grab her. “Oh-! Hey! Wait, Chrome-san-!” they stutter, reaching out for her sleeve but their fingers just barely miss it as she hurries over to the entrance to the living room, rushing to set the bags down.

Chrome blinks at them as she reaches for the living room light switch. “What’s wrong-?”

As soon as she flicks the lights on, a loud  _ Crack! _ erupts from the living room, multicolored bits of confetti and matching strips of paper raining down on her. “ **_Surpri-!_ ** ” a chorus of voices begin to cheer and stop cold when they notice who’s walked into their ‘trap’. Chrome bites back a squeak, head snapping forward to see her whole friend group spread out around the room after popping out from different pieces of furniture.

They freeze for a moment before Gokudera cuts through the silence. “Aw, fuck, not again.” he grumbles, walking out from behind the couch and dropping down on it, running a hand through his hair.

“Haha, maybe third time’s the charm?” Yamamoto offers, leaning against the back of Nana’s favorite armchair, a nervous chuckle rumbling from his throat. His lip quirks when Fuuta and Fran walk in, staring at the living room’s occupants. “...Or maybe not. Surprise?”

“ **_SURPRIIIIIIIIIIIIIISE!!!!_ ** ” Ryohei screams from where he is fighting with the curtains that cover the sliding door he’s gotten tangled in, as if hoping being loud will help it substitute for a real surprise.

Fuuta shakes their head, covering their face with their hands as Fran surveys the room.

There are balloons and streamers of different colors all over the room, bundled up in elegant little bouquets when they meet in the corners. Though most of the furniture is in their usual places, the coffee table that usually sits between the couch and the TV has been pushed to the side to make room for a nest of downy pillows, blankets, and plushies. Now closer to the entrance than usual and running parallel to it lengthwise, it’s covered with various types of snacks and drinks. A stack of DVDs sits at the corner of the table, a  _ Kamen Rider Blade _ DVD sitting at the top.

Everyone there — Tsuna and his guardians (sans Hibari who would obviously rather be dead than anywhere near a crowd this size), the rest of the Sawada House, and Kyoko and Haru — stares at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

Fran blinks and turns to Chrome. “Surprise, I guess? Did you do something good?”

Fuuta rubs their temples, giving their friend a half hearted glare. “Is this on purpose? Or do you really not know this is for you?”

“Me? What’d I do?” Fran tries to pick his nose but Fuuta brushes his hand away from his face.

“It’s for your  _ birthday, _ dummy!” Fuuta snaps, grabbing Fran’s cheek again and jiggling it again.

“Dat wus yeshderday.”

“Well, we  _ had _ thrown you another, better surprise party on the actual day, but you didn’t show up.” Tsuna cocks an eyebrow at him, a shaky, exhausted but half amused smile on his face as he throws himself onto the couch beside Gokudera. “I can’t tell if you’re avoiding us because you hate affection, or if we’re just really bad at surprise parties.”

“Ah, is that what it is?” Chrome asks, turning to Fran. “You don’t want us fawning over you, so you’re avoiding your birthday party?”

“I really didn’t know. And apparently  _ you _ didn’t know either, given you’re the one who ruined the surprise this time.” Chrome blushes a bit, muttering something about how she must have missed the new plans after her phone burned up in the fire. He ignores her, continuing to speak in deadpan, voice as bland as ever, but his nostrils are a bit flared. He looks a bit like a spooked rabbit, standing stock still but breathing quickly, like this has activated his fight or flight. “I’ve just never really celebrated. I went to the aquarium for it once, I guess, but other than that we never really tried to do a big party or anything.”

“So you don’t like it?” Fuuta asks, patting where they were squeezing his cheek. Their eyebrows furrow a bit, a small pout forming on their face for the second time that day. It seems having a redo party was their idea.

Fran looks away from their face, skin crawling from having to view and handle emotions. His nose wrinkles a bit in disgust. “...If I hated it I would’ve left already.”

Fuuta cups his face, blinking at him. “Wow.” they say, gently squishing his face. “You’re acting really shy, right now. It’s oddly cute?”

“Kuudere?” Haru squeals, cupping her own cheeks as her eyes flicker from the scene in front of her to the camera hanging off her neck, probably wondering if it’s appropriate to try and take pictures for her scrapbook.

“I thought it was tsundere?” Kyoko chimes in, cocking her head to the side.

“I’m neither of those things.” Fran mutters, as Fuuta starts dragging him by the hand to the nest of pillows. They drop down with a soft  _ Thwoomp! _ , Fran falling into the arms of a giant stuffed bear. His skin crawls as the rest of them start crowding around him, but he doesn’t bolt like he kind of wants to.

Nana fusses with the DVD player to kick off the marathon they have planned for tonight, chuckling a bit. “Now don’t tease him too much. You’ll embarrass him.” she says, popping in the first DVD for them before standing. “I’m going to start baking the pizzas, you guys be good and don’t make too much a mess, okay? No fighting either.”

“Okay!” they chorus, lying without meaning to.

* * *

By the time it’s three in the morning, everyone except Fuuta and Fran are fast asleep, strewn all over the living room. Their bodies are limp, limbs and heads dangling off the edge of couches, chairs, and even off each other’s bodies.

Lambo and I-Pin who were able to control themselves and only fought three times since the party started, are curled up with Gokudera (who was in charge of keeping them from killing each other this evening). They lay atop his chest, all three of them scrunched up on one side of the couch.

Tsuna, having had three soda cans explode on him, has bathed and changed into comfier clothes. He sits in the middle of the couch with his knees tucked into his chest, leaning his head against Bianchi’s shoulder. Bianchi, Kyoko, and Haru are also in a cluster on the other side of the couch, a blanket pulled over them placed by Nana hours ago.

After being forced to play an impromptu game of food Russian roulette when Bianchi touched one of the pizza’s Nana brought out, Ryohei is sprawled across the floor near the sliding door, his stomach having taken a huge beating. Yamamoto is laid out on his stomach beside him to keep him company, laying on top of a giant stuffed dog.

Chrome is scrunched up on Nana’s favorite armchair, a penguin stuffie in her arms. Her head rests on one arm, her legs dangling over the other. A fluffy pink blanket wraps around her thin frame.

Fuuta and Fran sit in the nest as the last episode of the last DVD concludes, the main menu coming back on.

Fran pushes off from where he’s leaning into Fuuta, popping his back with one good stretch. He looks at the snack table that’s been annihilated, crushed soda cans and snack debris littered across the wood. He turns to Fuuta and whispers, “We should go sleep upstairs so we don’t have to be part of the clean up crew tomorrow.”

“Good idea.” Fuuta whispers back, at least taking the time to turn off the DVD player and TV before the two of them sneak upstairs, snagging Fran’s overnight bag on their way out.

There’s no need to turn on the lights in Fuuta’s room. The mini planetarium Giannini gifted them was sitting turned on on their desk, blinking stars and galaxies swirling around the room in chalky reds, blues, and purples. The light it casts is dim but enough to use to navigate the room.

They change into their pajamas quickly, Fran beating them by a few seconds and claiming the side of the bed closest to the corner, curling up with his back to the wall. Fuuta continues buttoning their shirt up in front of the closet as he snags the blanket, starting to wrap himself into a burrito.

Now that he isn’t focused on the marathon, Fran’s dipping in and out of sleep, only kept from sleep because the light given off by the planetarium is just a bit too harsh. “Fuuta, turn off the light.” he mumbles, burrowing into the sheets and pulling the cover over his head, going full cocoon.

“Just one second.” He can hear Fuuta close the closet door and walk over, the little creak of the floorboards more distinct in the quiet night. His body rolls slightly to the right when they climb into bed beside him, knobby knees digging into the mattress. “Hey,” they say, patting the part of the blanket where they’re guessing his head is. “Can you hatch for a second?”

Fran (slowly, grudgingly) pokes his head out of the blankets at their request. His eyes instantly meet with a small box wrapped in simple blue wrapping paper and tied with a few lace ribbons.

“Obviously it’s a little late, but happy birthday.” Fuuta says, a little smile on their face as they hold out the little box towards him.

Fran blinks at them, detangling himself from the comforter after a moment’s struggle. He sits up and takes it, turning it in his hands.

He’s received gifts from his grandparents and other family members, but he’s never really received a gift from a friend. (Unless the spam of whale pictures he’d received from Gaston from his old school counts.) His skin begins to itch again, and he wonders if he’ll break into hives from all these gross, annoying feelings he’s experiencing.

“...You’re supposed to open it.” Fuuta says after a while, getting a little impatient in their excitement to see Fran’s reaction to their gift.

“What if I like it better like this?”

“You won’t.””

“Oh? Are you a mind reader now? Have you suddenly surpassed me as an esper within an afternoon?”

“I’m taking it back.”

“Fuck off, it’s mine.” Fran wriggles a foot out of the twisted blankets and holds it up — perfectly positioned for kicking — to keep Fuuta at bay.

Fuuta grabs his ankle and shifts his leg so it isn’t pointed at them, trying to keep from catching his foot with their face. “Then open it, dummy!” they whisper-yell. They stifle the bit of giggles escaping from their lips, trying to keep quiet in fear of waking Nana, who’s sleeping just down the hall.

“Fine, since you’re  _ bullying _ me into it.”

Fuuta lets go of his leg so he can sit up, their knees knocking into each other as the weight on the bed shifts. He pulls the ribbons off carefully, wanting to save the nicest bit of the decorations, before tearing into the wrapping paper. It falls in long strips onto the bed, and Fuuta collects them as he opens the box underneath.

Fran tips the box over into his hand as soon as he pulls it open. A small, colored capsule rolls into his hand. Fran stops breathing.

With shaking hands he twists the capsule open. A little multicolored tokusatsu character with a black bladed sword greets him. The Liner figure.

Fran lets out a small, pained wheeze and Fuuta starts to panic, trying to fan him with the bits of torn wrapping paper in their hands. “A-Are you  _ okay _ ?”

Fran flops over and buries his face in one of Fuuta’s pillows, going limp as his skin starts to itch. Fuuta gently shakes his shoulders, worried he’s passed out. “Heyhey! Are you mad or something? I’m sorry if you wanted to get it yourself, you just looked like you wanted it really bad...”

Fran pulls his head out of the pillow, nose wrinkled and squinting. “...It’s not too bad. Pretty decent gift.” he says, looking like he wants to gag even at that tiny little not-compliment.

Fuuta gives an irritated little groan and gently bops him on the head with one of the other pillows, but they’re beaming. “Why can’t you show gratitude like a normal person?” they whisper-yell, letting the pillow drop on him before going to shut off the planetarium for the night.

“When have I ever done anything like a normal person?” Fran asks, giving the Liner figure a little kiss while their back is turned before setting it on the shelf set in the head of Fuuta’s bed for safekeeping.

“I suppose you have a point.” Fuuta says, climbing into bed. The two of them settle down after a brief, silent battle over who gets how much of the blanket, Fran laying on his stomach with a pillow held to his chest and Fuuta on their back with an extra pillow in their arms.

They turn their head to look at their friend, Fran’s face barely visible in the moonlight slipping in through the little crack in their curtains. They reach out to him, thumb running against his forehead. “I told you, you’d get a lump on your head.” they mumble, feeling the now large bump on the center of his forehead.

“Still doesn’t hurt.” Fran says, sleep once again digging its claws into him now that his head has hit the pillow. He’s blinking slowly, the static excitement from the Liner figure trying to keep him awake but struggling.

“That’s still not the point, Francis.” they say, pulling their hand away. They look at their friend, blinking in the moonlight, and lay a little kiss on the bump. They snuggle deep into the pillows, letting the one they’re hugging cover their face. “We’ll ice it if it’s still swollen in the morning.”

Fran’s lip quirks in a sleepy smirk. “Tsundere?” he mumbles, revenge for the teasing he received earlier, word caught in a yawn.

“Shut up.” they mutter, ears burning as they pop him in the face with their pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're wondering about chrome's eyebrows it's based on [this request i did a while ago](https://basedkhr.tumblr.com/post/185419129223/can-we-get-found-familysibling-kind-of-scenario), it's basically like a continuation/expansion/parallel story whatever


End file.
